


playing favorites

by lowtides



Series: come on, come on, come on [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Multi, bunker shenanigans featuring hellspawn carmina rye, tagged relationships are just established relationships this is actually not shippy at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowtides/pseuds/lowtides
Summary: It’s never been confirmed justwhoCarmina loved the most (Nick and Kim, obviously, but beyond her parents there’s competition). Rook’s always assumed it’s her—well, either her or John fucking Seed but Carmina’s never been able to truly voice it in the past, being a baby and all. But Carmina has grown into a talkative little girl, and maybe Rook was better off living in the dark, because finally asking the kid to settle what’s what is leaving Rook flabbergasted.





	playing favorites

Rook has never despised John Seed as much as she does at this moment.

“What do you mean I’m not your favorite?” she asks the five-year-old trickster spawn of Nick and Kim, her wide smile wavering. “I’m your _godmother_ , Carmina. I’ve always been your favorite.”

It’s never been confirmed just _who_ Carmina loved the most ( _Nick and Kim, obviously, but beyond her parents there’s competition_ ). Rook’s always assumed it’s her—well, either her or John fucking Seed but Carmina’s never been able to truly voice it in the past, being a baby and all. But Carmina has grown into a talkative little girl, and maybe Rook was better off living in the dark, because finally asking the kid to settle what’s what is leaving Rook flabbergasted.

Carmina smiles in a way that only means mischief. She looks up at Rook and shakes her head, pigtails swishing around. “Nuh uh.”

 _“Nuh uh?”_ Rook parrots, perplexed. “What do you mean _nuh uh?_ Is this—you like John better, don’t you? That’s not fair, he’s around you and your mom and dad all the time. I give you presents!”

“So does Uncle John,” Carmina says, wrinkling her nose. “And ori… orijuh—”

“Origami?”

“Orijahmee birds and gross candy suck.”

“That’s—ugh, sweetie, this is a bunker. I can’t exactly go shopping for toys. And candy is already limited, it’s not my fault the only flavor we’ve got left is sour grape.”

“Uncle John got me a better toy,” Carmina says, dragging her arm across her nose to wipe some snot and successfully reminding Rook that children are gross. “And he’s fun.”

Frustrated, Rook picks up one of the little planes from the assortment of toys scattered on the floor and flies it around Carmina’s little head making engine sounds. “I’m fun, too! See? And what kind of presents does _Uncle John_ get you that’s better than my napkin origami?”

Rook is genuinely curious. It’s not like John, with all the fucking money he had, can go out shopping either.

Carmina sticks her arm out and points at the plane Rook is loop-de-looping through her pigtails. “The cool airplane.”

Rook freezes, resisting the urge to snap the plane into two. _Fuck that guy and his fucking model plane collection._ Her napkin origami cranes will never compare to this. “Oh—that’s. That’s nice. Very cool of him.”

_To-do: kill John Seed and make it look like an accident. And steal whatever model planes he’s got left._

“… Did I make you sad, Auntie Dep?” Carmina looks at her with big, glassy eyes. _Great, now I’m gonna make the kid cry._

“No, no,” Rook soothes, putting down the plane and pulling her goddaughter into her lap for a tight hug. Carmina hasn’t made her sad—if anything, Rook is murderous. “You didn’t make me sad. You never make me sad. You’re the cutest kid in the bunker.”

“Not true. That baby Auntie Addie and mommy helped out of someone’s tummy is the cutest. Auntie Addie said so.”

Rook spins Carmina around on her lap so they’re facing each other. She boops her tiny nose. “Auntie Addie’s just joking. That baby born last week was a Peggie baby. It’s gonna grow up with the worst fashion sense.”

Carmina frowns. “What’s a fashion sense?”

Someone knocks on the door, Rook hasn’t even said _come in_ yet as the door is already swinging open. As if Rook’s mental murder plans had summoned him herself, John Seed walks through the door with a big grin.

 _“Carmina,”_ he singsongs, “where’s my favorite Rye—”

He stops when his eyes land on Rook and Carmina sitting on the floor. The grin falls from his face when he and Rook lock eyes.

“Why don’t you ask your Uncle John, hm?” Rook says down to Carmina, who’s already scrambling off her lap.

Carmina squeals _Uncle John Uncle John Uncle John_ and bolts across the short distance of the room, as fast as her little legs can carry her, colliding firmly into John’s leg. John stumbles a bit at the impact and grins down at Carmina latching onto his leg like a koala.

“What are you doing here?” John glances at Rook, reaching down to pat Carmina on the head.

“Nick sent me to babysit. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Kim sent me to watch over Carmina.”

Rook rolls her eyes. “Well, I’ve got this handled. So you can go play with your model planes or something.”

John’s eyes widen ever so slightly, then narrow at her. “How did you know about that?”

Rook picks up the plane he gifted Carmina and waves it in the air for him to see. Carmina looks up at John from his leg and tugs on his vest, eager for his attention. John glances down, eyes softening immediately.

“Your airplane made Auntie Dep sad,” Carmina says, and Rook makes an indignant sound.

“Oh? How so?” John asks, glancing curiously at Rook across the room then back down to Carmina.

“It didn’t make me _sad_ ,” Rook scoffs, then mutters under her breath. “Frankly, I’m a little pissed.”

“Because she thought she was my favorite,” Carmina smiles, and Rook wishes the kid would just _stop_ talking to John. “But then I told her you’re cooler.”

Rook groans and drops her face into her hands. John fucking Seed is never gonna let her live this down. Rook, Carmina’s _godmother_ , is not her favorite. Apparently, John Seed is better than her, and his ego really does _not_ need further inflation.

John _preens_ at the confirmation that Carmina prefers him over her. His mouth sharpens into a too-wide smile, equal parts overjoyed and boastful at Rook. The corners of his eyes crinkling, he tousles Carmina’s hair and glances over at Rook again, an _evil_ look on his face. Rook glares back at him. _I’ll kill you,_ she mouths.

“So, my _dear_ Carmina,” John croons, bending down to pry the little girl off his leg and pick her up. Carmina nestles into the scoop of John’s arms and claps her hands when he bounces her up to his eye-level. “I’m your favorite? Uncle John is your favorite?”

Christ, he’s laying it on thick. Rook doesn’t know how she can compete with this. She _can’t_ compete with this, though. According to Carmina, Rook’s already lost. No amount of sour grape candy will ever get Rook into first place.

Carmina giggles when John kisses her on the cheek. Her tiny hands latch onto the sides of John’s face and shake his head left and right as she merely says, “Nuh uh.”

Kim birthed a _demon._ Rook swears she saw John almost drop her in his shock. John stiffens, leaning out of Carmina’s hands and lets out an astounded, _“What?”_

Carmina just _giggles._

John relaxes a bit. “Oh, you’re joking.”

Carmina stops giggling and scrunches her face at him, her tiny face suddenly serious. “I’m not joking!”

“Oh my god,” Rook blurts, grinning despite the confusion in the air. “So I _am_ your favorite!”

“Nuh uh.” Carmina shakes her head. John winces back, blinking rapidly when one of her pigtails swat him across the face.

“What?” Rook frowns, scrambling to her feet. “Are you joking or not, Carmina?”

John mutters something under his breath and puts Carmina back down on the ground. She pouts and raises her arms at John to be picked back up, but he doesn’t budge. Carmina turns to Rook and does the same, but Rook just crosses her arms.

 _“Carmina,”_ John begins firmly, both him and Rook staring down the pouting little girl. “Which one of us do you like better? Don’t joke, this is serious.”

Carmina meekly stares up at the two of them and wrings her hands together. “Uncle John.”

 _God fucking dammit._ Rook throws her hands up in defeat and looks at John. “Alright. Fine. You win, you bas— _bad_ man.”

John regards her with a deadpan look. “Nice save.”

“I can’t believe you’re her favorite.”

“You’re not my favorite!” Carmina pipes up below them. They both glance down at her, and Carmina stomps her foot on the ground, annoyed. “He’s not here!” She points up at John. “You’re not my favorite!” She jerks her pointed hand at Rook next. “You’re not my favorite! Now carry me! I wanna be carried!”

“Say please,” Rook mumbles, but begrudgingly picks up Carmina anyway. She frowns at John, who looks just as dumbfounded as she feels. “So if I’m not her favorite. And _you’re_ not her favorite. Well, fu— _fun_ , that means I’m freakin’ third place.”

“Carmina,” John starts again, sweetly albeit tiredly. “Please, darling, just tell us. Who’s your favorite person in the world?”

Carmina only smiles, mischief dimpling her cheeks, and she covers her mouth.

John sighs and turns towards the door, defeated. “It’s Charlemagne, isn’t it?”

“If it’s Sharky,” Rook hums, pulling Carmina closer. “Then you know what? I’m not even mad. He’s my favorite, too.”

Carmina’s _nuh uh_ is muffled against her shoulder.

 

-

 

“You’re looking glum today,” Jacob greets them, sliding into the vacant spot on the bench next to Rook. Across Rook, Kim elbows a scowling John, who sits up straighter as he’s startled out of his brooding.

“I’m fine,” John lies.

“He’s not,” Kim and Rook both say.

“He’s creeping me the fuck out,” Sharky mutters in the other seat beside Rook.

John eyes Rook curiously. “How come you’re not angry about this?”

Rook sighs, glancing at Jacob gratefully when he offers her some of his coffee. She takes a sip and sets the mug down before answering. “I’ve already lost. Even if you weren’t her favorite, it still wouldn’t be me. You won. She told me… _multiple_ times that I’m not first place in her heart, not even second place.”

 _“I’m_ second place,” John complains. “So I _haven’t_ won. My anger is justified. She was stolen from right under my nose.”

“Who’re you guys even talking about?” Sharky frowns, looking between John and Rook.

“Carmina,” Kim answers for them, taking a bite of canned mush off her fork to hide her smirk. God, she’s _enjoying_ their suffering—this must be where Carmina gets it from.

“You’re her godmother,” Jacob states gruffly, a strange frown on his face. He nudges Rook. “Shouldn’t you be her favorite? Where is the sprout, anyway?”

“That’s what I thought!” Rook bemoans, leaning her head on Jacob’s arm as she exaggerates her sorrow. She jerks her spoon at John across the table, who flinches at the droplets of soup flying at him. “My goddaughter likes _him_ better than me! God, I wish I’d never asked her. It was so good when she didn’t know words and couldn’t tell me I was wrong. I wish she never learned to talk.”

“And you wonder why she doesn’t love you best,” Kim deadpans. Then she looks to Jacob. “Carmina’s making a fuss. I charged Nick with wrangling her out of the room, they should be here any minute.”

“Wouldn’t she love you best?” Jacob raises a brow at Kim. “You’re her mother. Or Nick, even.”

“They don’t count,” John mutters beside Kim, wiping some of the soup Rook had flung at him off his face.

“Exactly. Nick and I are automatically the ones she loves best. We’re not in the competition. We don’t _need_ the competition—unlike these two sorry saps,” Kim scoffs, pointing at Rook and John.

Jacob takes a pensive sip from his mug. “Then who’s the kid’s favorite?”

“She didn’t tell us.” John slumps in his seat again.

“But it’s probably Sharky,” Rook sighs.

Sharky drops his knife and fork, the utensils clattering loudly on his near-empty plate. His eyes bulge at John. “So _that’s_ why you’s been staring at me like you wanna cut my dick off! It’s not _my fault_ I’m a bundle of fuckin’ joy! _Duh,_ kids would love me.”

“Glad to see this hasn’t inflated your ego at all,” Kim snorts.

“Shark’s not wrong, though,” Rook says after a gulp of her plain, plain soup ( _rationing sucks_ ). “He’s fun.”

“If you like smelling like smoke all the time,” John mutters, narrowing his eyes at Rook. “You’re really not bothered by this at all? Carmina’s _your_ goddaughter.”

“Hey,” she shrugs, wrapping her arms around Sharky and _squeezing_. “look at him, John. How can he _not_ be your favorite?”

John rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Too low for Rook to catch all of it, but the last part sounds like _I can think of a lot of reasons_.

Sharky wheezes at being squished but leans into the suffocating excuse of a hug. “Aw, thanks chica.”

John then looks at Jacob, who’s quietly tending to his coffee. John’s face twists into something short of scornful, jerking his head in Rook and Sharky’s direction. “You’re not at all bothered by this?”

Damn, John really _does_ want Sharky dead so he can take first place. It’s absurd to see _John Seed_ envious of _Sharky Boshaw_.

Sharky perks up at John’s implication, alarmed. “Whoa whoa whoa, no way man. Jake’n’Bake—” Jacob’s scowl at the nickname is _felt_ across the table, “—and me and Dep have already been over that. Get this in your head, Johnny boy, ‘cause if you wanna fight me over lil’ Carmina you can’t set your fuckin’ beast brother on me. It is _not_ like that with me and Dep here,” Sharky wiggles out of Rook’s grasp, hands flailing as he gestures wildly. “Po-Po here is like my sister. No—wait, no—not even my sister. Like. My twin. Like. Fraternal twins, because she’s way younger than me.”

Kim frowns. “Sharky, that’s not how—”

“I know, shit, just—you get what I mean though, right?”

Everyone hums noncommittally.

Jacob raises a brow at John. His face is its usual stoic expression but, the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “M’not worried at all.”

Just then, beyond their table in the bunker’s mess hall, Rook hears the shrill panic of Nick’s Parenting Voice. “Carmina! Carmina, don’t run so fast, sweetie! _Carmina,_ you could trip and scrape your knee! Wait for daddy, sweetie, come on—”

Jacob bristles, fingers drumming lightly at the table. “Speak of the devil. John, we best leave. Should be radioing Joe and Faith soon.”

John frowns as Jacob shifts out of the bench seat. “That’s not for another hour.”

Rook wants to comment on Jacob’s sudden need to depart, but a tornado of tiny little legs barrels towards her. “Carmina! Come over here, honey! Do you wanna sit in my lap? We can play— _oof—”_

Rook tries to hook Carmina’s body with an extended arm so she can scoop the kid onto her lap, but that doesn’t stop Carmina. She struggles in Rook’s arms. At first Rook thinks she’s trying to climb into her lap, but she merely uses her lap as a stepping stone when she’s up, Carmina’s annoyed little voice mumbling _lemme go auntie dep get off!_

Nick finally makes it to their table, out of breath. “Okay, yeah Dep, you take her. _Please.”_

“Give her to me, Po-Po,” Sharky says, motioning with grabby hands. “Maybe she wants her _favorite_ Uncle Sharky.”

“Die,” John says dispassionately to him.

“Gotta get back to work,” Jacob says gruffly, standing properly now.

Rook cranes her neck to frown up at him, Carmina writhing in her arms. “What’s the rush?”

“Lemme go, lemme go!” Carmina squirms and squirms. Rook finally loosens her grip, nudging Carmina towards Sharky’s waiting arms. Carmina fights against it, trying to climb _over_ Rook. “Don’t want Uncle Sharky, no no no—”

Carmina scrabbles up Rook. She starts yelping protests of _fuc—fudge, fudge, fudge, Carmina ouch_ as Carmina climbs Rook’s upper body like a rock wall. She steps on Rook’s fucking _boob_ and then her knee is on her shoulder—

Distantly, Rook is aware of John’s snort, Kim’s _cackling_ , and Nick sounding like he’s gonna have a heart attack exclaiming, “Carmina get down from Dep, you might fall—Dep, Sharky, shit, grab her!”

Before Rook can catch a limb, before Sharky can surge forward and pluck her off of Rook, Carmina’s got her foot planted on Rook’s shoulder. Carmina’s shoe digs painfully into Rook, and a tiny hand fists her hair painfully for balance. Then Carmina fucking _leaps_ off of Rook—the shrill note to Nick’s voice returns—and soars mid-air for a split second before she latches onto the side of Jacob’s retreating form.

“Ah, Christ—” Jacob hisses, tensing as Carmina dangles off his elbow. After a moment of consideration, he maneuvers her off his elbow so he can hold her up with his hands hooked under her armpits—his arms outstretched, keeping himself just out of reach from Carmina’s grabby hands. He ignores Carmina’s reaching and looks grimly over at Nick. “She’s fine. You can stop screaming.”

Nick sighs, shoulders sagging considerably, and he makes his way over to where John and Kim sit next to each other. He nudges them apart slightly before squeezing his way in to sit between them on the bench. Then he throws his arms over both of their shoulders and huddles them closer as he slumps and hangs his head forward, exhausted. “I’m _beat._ Spent twenty minutes finally getting her to leave the room, and Pratt walks by, Carmina asks him where Uncle _Jake_ is and he says Jacob’s in the mess—and the next thing I know she fuckin’ bolts!”

Rook waves her spoon, flicking soup at Nick. “Language. Your kid is literally right there.”

“That’s rich, Dep, coming from you,” Nick remarks.

“Don’t think Carmina’s listening, anyway,” Sharky frowns, leaning back in his seat to look at where Jacob stands, grumpily holding Carmina. “And, uh, guys, think you guessed wrong for her favorite.”

Jacob looks disgruntled as Carmina rambles _Uncle Jake Uncle Jake go higher I wanna fly_ , swiping her arms around, trying to grab at him. Then it _clicks_ in Rook’s head—why Carmina was running in their direction, why Jacob was so eager to leave, why Carmina asked Staci about _Jacob_.

John seems to understand too, because before Rook can express her astonishment, the tabletop shakes as John slams his hands onto it and hisses, “You _betrayed_ me!”

“I didn’t,” Jacob says stiffly, extending his arms further when Carmina almost gets a handful of his beard.

Kim, who hasn’t stopped cackling, starts to shake with laughter—going full witch-cackle. Rook turns her attention to her the same time John does, both of them wide-eyed. Rook drops her spoon, glaring at Kim as her jaw hangs open in shock. “You _knew.”_

“Yeah, yeah I did, the _look_ on your faces—” Kim giggles, interrupting herself by covering her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her laughter.

“Don’t know what the hel— _what_ you’re talking about, but you’re all wrong,” Jacob growls, turning around to set Carmina on the table. The second he lets her go, Carmina’s sneakers squeak on the tabletop as she launches herself up at Jacob again, now trying to scale his torso. Jacob mutters a curse and tries to get a hold of her, but she keeps fighting him off. “Son of a—kid, _stop_.”

Carmina, fists full of Jacob’s shirt and shoes digging into the slight softness of his stomach, _stops_.

“She listened to you.” Nick sounds awed—miserable and awed. “How did you _do_ that?”

“Wanna touch the sky,” Carmina insists, poking a tiny finger into Jacob’s chin, as if she can annoy him into compliance.

“Oh my god,” Rook stares at Jacob. “I hate you.”

“How could you do this to me?” John asks Jacob, splaying his hands on the table. “You stole her!”

“You stole her!” Rook echoes fervently.

“I am _not_ the kid’s favorite,” Jacob seethes as Carmina happily chants _favorite favorite favorite_. Though there’s anger written on Jacob’s face, he gives up his protest against Carmina and sighs, plucking her off his chest and raising her up over his head to sit on his shoulders. Carmina claps her hands excitedly and swings her feet, shoes bumping Jacob’s shoulders as they kick back and forth. Jacob grinds his teeth, not in pain from the kicks, no, this looks like exasperation. “She just wants to sit on my shoulders all damn day.”

“Wh-what?” John, the man of many words, stammers in confusion. “But I carry her all the time. She’s ridden on my shoulders too—”

“You’re too short!” Carmina crows from atop Jacob’s shoulders, playing with the red and few greys of Jacob’s hair. “Everyone is small and I’m tall! Uncle Jake is tall! I can touch the sky when Uncle Jake plays horsie!”

Jacob’s eye twitches. “I don’t _play_ h—”

“How does this—how did this even happen, anyway?” Rook interjects, waving her hands in gesture to Jacob grumpily standing as Carmina giggles on his shoulders and reaches up up up. True to ‘ _touching the sky_ ,’ Carmina presses her palms to the ceiling with little effort. “I’ve hardly seen you _near_ her, let alone babysitting her.”

“I’ve never asked him to babysit,” Nick frowns.

“I started asking Jacob to watch her since discovering, ah,” Kim smirks and points over to glaring Jacob and laughing Carmina, “ _this_.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Nick squawks.

“You didn’t tell _me?”_ John looks sharply at Kim, affronted.

Kim puts her hands up in surrender. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“But, uh, how’d this start?” Sharky asks, scratching his beard and looking at Jacob. “Like, sorry man, but I can’t imagine ya volunteering to babysit.”

Rook can maybe picture it? After all, he did raise his brothers. But she thinks Jacob would rather choke on his own tongue than admit he’s friendly enough with Nick and Kim to happily babysit their kid.

“A couple months ago I asked Addie—already a mistake—to sit her for a bit,” Kim shrugs, answering for Jacob. “Came back an hour later, and Addie said she lost her. I ran around the whole bunker looking for her, only to bump into Pratt, who was walking her around, looking for me and Nick. He didn’t tell me anything, only that Jacob found her wandering near the armory. Then she ran off again a couple days later, and _again_ Pratt brought her back.” Kim squints at Jacob. “You really get him to do your dirty work, huh?”

Jacob shrugs. “He doesn’t complain. Much.”

Kim snorts. “But yeah, anyway, one day I just left her with Pratt, because if she’s gonna keep running to the training rooms I’d rather someone _knows_ she’s there and just watches over her—”

Nick makes a strangled noise. “You _what?_ There are _weapons_ there—”

Kim flashes Nick a silencing look and keeps talking. “ _So._ I went to the training rooms later to pick her up, and she wasn’t _anywhere_ near Pratt. I panicked. And then I saw _Uncle Jake_ here absolutely _ragging_ on a guard for complacency, it was terrifying, but right on top of his shoulders was Carmina.”

Rook blinks, dumbfounded. “But… but if this has been going on for a while—” she glances up at Jacob, “If you’ve been babysitting her in front of your soldiers… then why hasn’t anyone said anything? Why haven’t I heard anything?”

Sharky elbows her. “I know he’s not so scary because you’re banging him, Dep—”

 _“Dude. Language.”_ Nick hisses, pointing up at Carmina.

“—but, like, if my boss were as big and scary as Jacob, I wouldn’t fuckin’ say shit either.” Sharky’s eyes widen. “ _Uh_ , language, right. _I mean_ , I wouldn’t say shit either.”

Rook raises a brow. “Nailed it, dude.”

“But why keep it a secret?” John asks Jacob, practically sulking.

“‘Cause I knew you’d react like this,” Jacob rolls his eyes, absently lifting his hand to move Carmina’s much smaller hand away when she starts messing his hair. It’s a move so casual that Rook can tell he’s done this a lot. It hits her that his disgruntled demeanor right now is not because of Carmina herself, but because he’s been found out. “It’s important to you and Dep, ‘course I’d never hear the end of it from you two if you found out.”

“Fair,” John nods, but he still doesn’t look happy.

“Yeah,” Rook scowls, devoid of venom. “You’re _never_ gonna hear the end of it from me. Traitor.”

Jacob lets out another exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Relax. She’s just a kid. She’s gonna change her mind about her _‘favorite’_ whenever she feels like it. Give it a week.”

Carmina laughs and puts her hands on Jacob’s scarred cheeks, smushing his face. “Nuh uh.”

“Stop that,” Jacob says sternly, and Carmina releases his face.

“Seriously,” Nick says miserably. “How do you do that?”

**Author's Note:**

> Jacob is actually very nice to Carmina, he just doesn't want other people to see him being _nice_


End file.
